


RSZealot's Bumbleby Week 2020

by RSZealot



Category: RWBY, The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Bumbleby Week 2020 (RWBY), F/F, Fluff, LotR AU in chapter 4, No Angst, if it is tell me and I'll add it, my readers can have little a angst. as a treat, okay so there's a little angst..., there is some violence but I don't know if it's graphic enough for a warning, this is a no-angst zone just happy bees here
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-01
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-03 00:29:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 7,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24495754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RSZealot/pseuds/RSZealot
Summary: It's that wonderful time of the year yet again, when the flowers bloom, the bees buzz, and I once more delude myself that I can use these prompts to get back into writing more.
Relationships: Blake Belladonna/Yang Xiao Long
Comments: 10
Kudos: 103





	1. Day 1 - Ring

Blake snapped out of her thoughts as she suddenly heard a knock on the door. She’d been so caught up in her own head, internally panicking over what to do that she’d failed to hear anyone approach the bedroom.

“Blake? Are you okay in there?”

It was Yang. Normally, Yang checking in on her when she was feeling off was a welcome thing, but maybe not when she was the reason she was worried. Or, not worried perhaps, but _nervous_.

“Um, yeah!” she replied, before cringing at her too-cheerful tone. No way Yang wasn’t going to notice. There was a moment of silence before Yang spoke up again.

“Oh, good! Well, I just wanted to let you know that dinner’s ready.”

 _Crap_ , how long had she been in here? She went in just after lunch. Had she really spent so long deliberating? “That’s, uh, all.”

Blake let out a sigh of relief as she heard Yang turn to leave. She hadn’t noticed.

She paused.

Oh shit! Yang had totally noticed! Blake mentally berated herself for missing it. Yang was doing that thing she did when she picked up on her not being okay, but wanting to be left alone. Instantly her mind was brought back to right after they had been reunited. Of the awkwardness and lost glances and the painful divide of being so close, yet so distant.

She shot to her feet and out the door. She never wanted to feel like that again. She’d made Yang a promise.

“Yang, wait!” She caught her just as she was about to head down the stairs. Yang stopped mid-step and turned to look at her. “Ah, um...” She nervously rubbed her arm, her other hand clutching It. “Can we talk for a minute?”

Yang paused, then smiled. “Yeah.”

Blake gestured for Yang to follow her, then made her way back into the bedroom, sitting down on the bed, looking down at the floor.

Yang entered, shutting the door behind her, looking at Blake with what she was sure was a patient smile. There were so many things she wanted to say. Needed to say. Things that ate her up inside and rattled around in her skull wanting out. But where to even start? _I love you? My mom thinks we’re soulmates and wants me to marry you? Please don’t hate me?_

Instead, all she could do was hold out her hand.

“This is yours.”

“A ring?” Yang sounded confused, and stepped closer.

Even with her eyes screwed shut in terror, she could feel Yang’s eyes on her hand. She began to retell the story, as her mother had told it. Of the faunus princess, and the human she loved. Of the ring, and the promise, and the pair of grizzly deaths. The whole time Yang stood silent, merely listening to her ramble. She was hasty and sloppy at first, stuttering in nervous fear. As the tale went on she found her strength, emboldened by Yang’s mere presence.

“I don’t know if I even believe it,” she finished, “But this ring came to me, from the sea. And myth or not, it represents love, and a promise always to return. So, it’s yours.”

She felt Yang take the offered ring, and finally dared to look up at her. She had tears in her eyes, her cheeks red. Gently, and with purpose, she put the ring on her left ring finger. Then, she lunged at Blake, pulling her into a tight hug, and the dam burst. Tears streamed down Blake’s face as she sobbed into Yangs shoulder. The unspoken acceptance lifting a weight off her soul. She felt Yang kiss her cheek, felt her smile against her skin.

“I love you too, Blake.”


	2. Day 2 - Scars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I feel like this one is bound to create a lot of angsty works, so have something fluffy.

“-And of course I added the paint job myself.”

Blake was watching from across the room as Yang was showing off her prosthesis to the Happy Huntresses, The three women were ooh-ing and aah-ing over it, clearly impressed. Blake wished she could share their enthusiasm. From what she gathered it was an impressive piece of tech. Among the best Atlas had produced, and with Yang’s own work to add to it.

But she still felt awkward about it. She knew she shouldn’t, but she just couldn’t help but feel responsible. As such, she still felt a little strange when it came to the arm. Like she shouldn’t acknowledge it, lest she make light of the fact that Yang had _lost her arm_ to save her. Had given up part of herself for her.

“Woo!”

A chorus of cheers and applause snapped her out of her thoughts. It seems they had moved on to testing the arm’s strength, with Joanna, easily the most physically imposing of the group, facing Yang in an arm wrestling match. One she had just lost.

“Alright, it’s strong, I’ll give you that.” She said.

“Oh no,” Yang countered, flexing. “That was all me.”

Blake fought a blush at the sight of a flexing, cocky Yang. She had grown used to the fact that Yang had that effect on her. She watched as they moved on to another round with their other arms, which ended in much the same way as the first.

“Damn kid, you’re strong.”

“You’re no weakling yourself.”

Blake continued to watch from afar as they continued to talk for a bit, before the Huntresses left. Yang finished the last of her glass of water, and this time Blake couldn’t fight back her blushing as she watched Yang’s lips part, her head thrown back and her neck exposed, wild waterfall of golden hair draping over her back.

 _Fuck_.

Yang put the glass back down, and turned to face Blake, a cocky smirk on her face.

“So, what do you think?” She held up her prosthetic arm, flexing once more. “I never did get your opinion on this. Pretty neat huh?”

Despite the apparent lightness in Yang’s voice, it was impossible not to read into the meaning behind her words. An invitation. An acknowledgement that Blake had been avoiding the topic. Asking her to stop doing so. She stepped forwards, meeting Yang half-way as she rose from her chair and made her way over towards Blake. Yang held out her prosthetic arm, and Blake took it in her hands, feeling the smooth, warm metal.

“The base is Atlas design obviously, but I made a few upgrades myself.” With a flick of her wrist a gun barrel extended from the arm. “Installed this baby, hidden weaponry that I can’t really lose.” She retracted the gun, and held up her hand, as four sharp-looking ersatz fingernails extended from her fingertips. “These are nowhere near weapons-grade, but there’s plenty of times when thin, straight pieces of metal come in handy. Shimmying open a lock, or opening cans, that kind of stuff.”

Blake stared transfixed at the bright yellow arm, ear flicking periodically as she listened to Yang excitedly -even proudly- explaining the features of her arm. On an intellectual level, she knew Yang didn’t really blame her for what happened, and that she had already accepted her new arm, but it was another thing entirely to hear her talk about it like this.

She knew Yang felt the loss of her organic arm, had even held her one night while she suffered through the phantom pain, but she talked about her new one like it was _cool_. Like the way she modded it was little different from getting a tattoo or a piercing. An expression of creativity and self-image. She went over what colours she had decided to paint it, and what parts to paint in what colour, talked about specs and capabilities in not a dissimilar way to how she had talked about her beloved Bumblebee.

It made Blake’s heart swell, how Yang was able to take this terrifying, life-altering event, and use it to express herself. How she had not just kept going, but build over the ruin of her life with choice and meaning. Yang truly was _strength_.

“-But of course, this is just what I could do with the old weapon and bike parts we had back at home. Once this is all over, I’ll see what I can really make this thing do.” Yang suddenly moved her hand over to cup Blake’s cheek, drawing a breath from Blake. “Like, the touch sensors are pretty low-grade. Leave it to Atlas to skimp on that in favour of heavier plating, huh?” She tucked a strand of loose hai behind Blake’s ear. “Like, I can feel your cheek vaguely, but your hair is too light to set it off.”

Like before, Blake could read the unsaid words here too, and responded by putting her hand on Yang’s wrist and twisting her head over to kiss the palm of her hand. She was still wearing the smudged remains of her make-up, never having bothered wash it off, so her lipstick left a mark on the metal.

“Could you feel that?”

Yang’s eyes were wide, mouth agape in silence. Blake could see her about to stammer out a ‘yeah’, before she thought better of it.

“N-not really...” She said instead, blushing heavily now. _Good answer_.

Blake leaned in an placed a kiss on her lips instead, soft and gentle, but insistent.

“How about now? Did you feel that?”

Yang wrapping her arms around her and pulling her in for another kiss was all the answer she needed.


	3. Day 3 - Reincarnation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Team RWBY play some DnD, and Weiss has missed a few sessions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone and their dog is making soulmates stuff, so I thought I'd focus on the other part of the prompt. In my own way of course.
> 
> See how many references to last year's bumbleby week you can spot!

Our party of intrepid adventurers have just left the tomb of the dread lich Karkhan Fardren. Battered and bruised, but triumphant, our heroes set to the task of resurrecting their fallen friend Atropa Mortiferus, who tragically fell to the lich’s dark magics in their ultimate battle for-

* * *

“Wait, Blake died?” Weiss looked up from her character sheet, raising an eyebrow at the woman in question. “You’re a rogue. You have Evasion  _ and _ Uncanny Dodge. How did he even hit you?”

“Two nat 1’s on the save against a Power Word: Kill, is how.” Blake replied before letting out a tired groan, leaning against her girlfriend’s shoulder. Yang patted her on the head in sympathy.

“Really?  _ Power Word: Kill _ , at this level?” She shot an incredulous look at their DM, Ruby, who held her hands up defensively.

“The DC was ten”, she said. “I just wanted to show how powerful he was without actually one-shotting anyone.”

“Well, good job.” Weiss sighed. “I miss three sessions and you get a player killed.”

“Not to worry!” Jaune exclaimed, holding up his character sheet. “I picked up Reincarnate when we levelled up. I cast it before we quit last session.” Blake pulled a piece of paper out of her bag, handing it to Ruby.

“Gave me time to make a new drawing for what my character would look like now.” Ruby ooh-ed at the drawing, then leaned in over the table, only the upper part of her face visible over the edge of her dm screen.

“Unless anyone has anything to add…?” Total silence from the group. “Alright...”

* * *

You are all gathered around the stone slab where Katla laid Atropa’s body down, and where Julius Sunwreath has spent the last hour working his holy magic to weave a new body for your fallen friend. She is covered completely by Katla’s cloak, but you’ve seen her body changing dimensions underneath. Finally, she takes a sharp breath, returned to life.

Katla rushes over immediately, sitting down next to her and removing the cloak.

“Welcome back baby.”

* * *

“Baby?” Weiss groans. “Are your characters dating? Again?” So far they hadn’t made it through a campaign without Blake and Yang’s characters becoming romantically involved. She had had great hopes for this one, but of course it happens in the three sessions she isn’t around to stop it.

“They really tried not to this time,” Nora said, placing the back of her hand against her forehead dramatically. “But they just couldn’t resist the magnetic draw between them!”

“You two do know that the point of a role-playing game is to  _ play  _ a  _ role _ ? I get quite enough of you two being inseparably lovey-dovey in real life that you very much.” She turned up her nose at the two love-birds, awaiting their usual retort.

But none came. Instead Blake wore a smug expression.

“Wait, no-”

“And this is what you see!” Ruby held up the drawing Blake made, and Weiss let out an “of course”, Blake snickered evilly, and Yang’s jaw dropped.

Atropa had gone from an admittedly pretty wood elf to a drop-dead-gorgeous tiefling. As the rest of the group ooh-ed and complimented Blake on her art skills, Weiss instead stared daggers at the now preening faunus and her blushing and suddenly very excited girlfriend.

“Anyway-” Ruby cleared her throat.

* * *

Lying on the slab is a tiefling woman with a deep crimson skin colour and auburn hair. The only real sign that this is indeed Atropa is her clothing, and her eyes, which remain the same piercing green.

Atropa smiles up at Katla, blinking her eyes.

“I told you I’d be fine.”

Katla laughs, leaning down to place her forehead against Atropa’s.

“So, how do I look?”

* * *

“Atropa already knows it was a reincarnation spell. I feel like with her backstory, she’s probably come back from death before, so this isn’t something new for her.” Ruby nods.

“Makes sense”

* * *

“Hot.”

* * *

“Really Yang?”

“What, I’m in character! It’s what Katla would say. Her flaw is literally  _ always speaks her mind, even when she shouldn’t. _ ” Weiss rolls her eyes.

* * *

“Well, that’s nothing new.” Atropa looks at her arm. “Red… Wait...” She moves her hands up to her head and feels the horns. “Tiefling? Neat.”

“You look good baby. Really good. Great even!”

* * *

“You know,” Nora begins with a grin, “despite Blake being the tiefling now, the change also made Yang horny!”

A wave of groans and gagging noises pass over the room.

“Really, Nora?”

“Am I wrong?”

“No; you’re not. And that’s the worst part.”


	4. Day 4 - AU

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LotR AU!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really excited for this one. I've been on one hell of a LotR binge recently, so this made the most sense for me. I may even continue this later. Especially if people like it.
> 
> Went for a more "archaic" (I guess?) style for this one, to fit the setting.

What had began as a simple reconnaissance mission had quickly spiralled into a disaster. Yang, her sister Ruby, and their travelling companion the elf Glossril of Lothlorien, had been sent by Lord Sirgon of Lebennin to go east of the Anduin and scout the enemy’s forces there.

They’d found the enemies alright. While exploring an old abandoned fortress, they had been separated by a collapsing wall. It had trapped Yang inside, while the other women were still in the courtyard. Soon thereafter she had heard the tell-tale sounds of battle echoing through the walls, coming from far behind her as she searched for another way out.

She could only pray that the others were not overrun. She felt fury rise in her chest at the thought of not being there for her sister. Gripping her mace tighter, she crept towards the next doorway. Under the distant sounds of battle, she had heard other sounds. Enemies abound, it seemed.

She listened at the door, hearing the strange tongue of the Variags of Khand. She could not speak it, but they seemed to be in dour moods, judging from their voices. The door had a keyhole, but she dared not peer through it. With her heavy plate it was a miracle that they had not heard her approach. She took a deep breath, shoving aside her worry for her companions. 

She kicked open the door, hitting one of the variags with it and sending him to the floor. She seized the opportunity and smashed him with her mace before he could recover, a solid blow to the head ending him. Four others there were, three of them seated, their weapons laid aside, and the last by a window on the other side of the room. Mace and sword in hand she made quick work of two of the seated ones, running one through with the blade while beating the other off with the hammer. One the first was dead, her sword bit into the other’s arm, the pain shooting through him giving her time to break his kneecaps, sending him to his knees and opening him up for a final blow to the throat.

The last was already armored and ready when she approached, axe and shield in hand. She surged forth, delivering a heavy blow with her mace forcing him to hide behind the shield. He swung his axe at her side, but she caught the haft with her blade, redirecting the blow towards the floor. Again she swung with her mace, this time at his side, forcing him to leave himself bare at the front. But the variag was wise to her trick, and gambled to grab her sword by the blade, keeping her from swinging it.

Instead, she stepped onto his foot, and in a gamble of her own, kicked with her other leg at his, sending his stance wide and toppling him. She wrested her balde from his hand as he fell, and swung with her mace at his now vulnerable shield-arm, a sickening crunch signalling its newfound uselessness. He screamed in rage and pain, but was silenced by Yang thrusting her sword through the eyehole of his helmet.

She staggered back, breathing heavily. She had lived a long life of war, and had often fought foes of such numbers on her own, but it never ceased to tire her in spirit as in body. At least the deed was done, and from the window her foe had been gazing out of, she could see the courtyard. Orcs and variags were scattered about, all dead, cut down by precision and fervor in equal measure. That would be the work of her companions. There were no signs of the women themselves though, so they must have found another entrance and come looking for her.

Smiling at her sister’s work below, she headed out the other door, and took to finding them. The rest of the corridors were quiet and empty, ruined from long disuse. Once or twice she found a dead orc, which she paid no mind. She knew the forces of the dark lord could be just as cruel to their own kind as to their enemies. Eventually she came to the great hall of the fortress. Its large gate into the courtyard was blocked by rubble, and its throne was shattered. a number of dead orcs and variags were scattered about, and at this Yang grew puzzled. One or two dead from infighting or brawls was nothing uncommon, but these numbers were far greater than that, near on a dozen.

And on the other side of the great hall, crouched over one of the dead, was a person. Their dark hooded cloak was all Yang could see, but she was clearly neither Glossril nor Ruby, for neither of them wore such colours. Ruby wore a hooded cloak yes, but that was a scarlet battle trophy taken from a dead southron. Nevertheless, it did seem as if this stranger had killed these foes.

“Hail,” Yang said, weapons at her side, “friend or foe of Gond-”

She was cut off as a knife came flying past her head, forcing her to dodge it. Before she could right herself, the stranger was already by her, moving with great speed. A low kick sent her on her back before the stranger pinned harm arms under her knees, holding a thick short sword to her neck. The stranger wore a metal mask like the man she had killed just minutes before, but instead of the stylized, demonic face, this one was vaguely feline in nature and far less detailed.

“Who are you, and why are you here?” she asked. And it was definitely a _she_. Through the eyeholes of the mask, Yang could see a pair of brilliant gold eyes and not much else, but between the voice and her figure, she was definitely a woman.

“I am Yang, daughter of Taiyang, of Gondor. Called Lûgnaur by the elves. I am an adventurer, sent to search this area.”

The woman paused for a moment, clearly considering her words. Then, she withdrew her blade and rose to her feet, backing away from Yang. She kept her blade in her hand though, and Yang could now see a knife in her other, and several more strapped to her body.

“Then we have no quarrel. I hunt these men same as you.” Yang rose to her feet slowly, sheathing her weapons. Something about the woman made her want to trust her.

“I’ve never seen a Variag hunting Variags before,” she said.

“And I’ve never seen a Gondorian with a name like yours, or your fathers.”

“Ah,” Yang sighed, acquiescing to her deflection. For now at least. “My family has their roots in a kingdom far away, in Rhûn. We kept our Rhûnaur names. I’ve answered your question, now you answer mine.”

The woman shrugged. “They’re Baladda. I’m Solanâkh.” Apparently she thought that answer enough and went back to looting the dead. 

“And that means...”

Another sigh from the woman. “The Solanâkh clan has long been vassals of the Baladda. When they joined with Mordor, we disagreed. I have hunted them and any other clans that dishonor Khand ever since.”

“Huh.” Yang joined the woman, crouching next to her. “It does me good to hear not all of your people have fallen to darkness.”

“Why thank you. What a stellar compliment,” the woman replied in the single most sarcastic tone of voice Yang had ever heard. She finished going through the dead man’s pockets and turned to Yang, fixing her with a glare.

“W-well, it’s not like I’ve ever been to Khand. I’ve only ever met Variags on the battlefield.” The woman said nothing, and stood up to search the next body. Yang stood up. “So… you know my name? What’s yours?”

“I am Blâke, of the Solanâkh. They call me The Wild Cat.” The complete seriousness in her voice forced Yang to suppress a giggle. Apparently not well enough however, as Blâke glared at her. 

“I’m sorry.” Yang held up her hands in an apologetic fashion. “But I take it that sounds more intimidating in Variag?”

“Khândish,” Blâke corrected. “And is it not in _Gondorian_?”

“Westron,” Yang shot back, starting to enjoy their back-and-forth. “And not really. Makes you sound kind of cute.”

Blâke hesitated at that, and Yang knew she had got her.

“I am not _cute_ ,” she insisted, her voice a low rumble that was probably meant to be fearsome, but just succeeded in making Yang greatly doubt her statement.

“Well, I know a little Sindarin, though it’s a tongue of elves and nobility. There it would be _Braigraw_ , I think. That sounds a little more intimidating. But perhaps only because I do not speak it natively.” 

Blâke let out a huff and finished searching the man in silence. Eventually, she stood up.

“So, Yang of Gondor, I am guessing you’re not foolish enough to come so far from your lands alone?”

“This was Gondor once. And it shall be again when the shadow retreats.” Blâke’s eyes twinkled at that, or perhaps it was a trick of the light streaming in through the holes in the roof. “And no, I am not alone. My sister and a friend of ours, an elf, are with me. We became separated when part of the ceiling collapsed.” Blâke merely hummed thoughtfully. She must have heard the battle outside, and maybe figured it was them.

“Well, then, let us go and find them, before the rest of our foes do.”

Together the two of them set off through a side door, exploring the rest of the fort. They walked in silence, fearing their voices would alert their enemies. Yang couldn’t help but feel a smile on her face. This Variag intrigued her. Not just for the rarity of one of her kind fighting the shadow, but for her fiery yet withdrawn personality. Even though she acted dour, Yang could tell there was something more to her. It was in the way she had responded to the accusation of being cute, and the way her eyes gleamed when Yang had declared the inevitability of the Dark Lord’s fall.

Despite herself, Yang liked her.

They came upon another door, one of many they had crossed. At this one however, Blâke had stopped, and listened.

“Orcs,” she whispered. “At least five.” A second passed. “And variags. Two of them.” Yang brandished her weapons silently, showing that she wa ready. Instead of breaching the door however, Blâke looked up, where the wall had crumbled to reveal a passage onto a balcony in the next room. “On my signal.” With that, she began to scale the wall with a grace Yang had only seen elves display.  
  
“What signal?” She whispered after her.

“You’ll know,” came the only reply.

Yang bit back a curse as Blâke disappeared through the hole. But, she stayed, awaiting her signal, whatever shape it may take. She only had to wait a minute until shouting erupted from the other room, and a heavy _thud_ sounded. Taking that to be the signal, she kicked in the door.

The room was another large hall, some kind of library once. Now the shelves were long empty, and a few of them overturned. The orcs were spread out around the room, weapons drawn, all of them facing the far wall, where Blâke had jumped from the balcony that circled the room and landed on one of the variags, driving her sword through him and stabbed the other in the back in the same motion.

Before the orcs could react to her entrance, Yang rushed forward and brought one of them low, swinging her weapons wide so they met in his chest. With the variags down, a handful of orcs were no problem, and between the two of them, the fight was over in seconds. As Blâke flitted about gracefully, distracting the orcs, Yang would strike, and when their attention was on the apparent easier target, Blâke would leap in and aim for their weak spots.

“It would seem we make a good team,” Yang said, wiping off her bloodied sword on one of the variags’ robes. She looked over at Blake, who was retrieving her throwing knives.

“Indeed it would,” she replied, giving Yang a nod. Warmth spread over her cheeks. She felt a bit silly. She had just met this woman, and did not even know her face, but the tone in her voice made Yang feel… _something_ . Something warm and fuzzy in her chest. Had she been more experienced in such matters, and not lead a life of war and caring for her younger sister, she might have recognized it as _attraction_.

They continued, the silence a little more companionable now that they had fought side by side. Yang even caught herself watching the way Blâke’s body moved as she walked, her posture low and her movements fluid, her cape swaying behind her reminding Yang of a tail. The Wild Cat indeed…

Eventually Blâke stopped, holding up a hand as a signal for Yang to do the same. She froze, straining her ears. She could in fact hear someone approaching from around the corner. As the sound of footfalls came closer and closer, Blâke readied her knife, and rounded the corner. Yang saw her arm disappear around, then heard the clang of metal on metal, and Blâke dodged low and vanished fully beyond.

More sounds of metal clashing, and Yang rushed to her aid, only to stop as she saw the scene before her.

Clashing with Blâke was no orc, or variag, or other servant of the shadows, but a pale elf-maid with a thin sword, and long white hair kept in a tail. She immediately dropped her weapons, recognizing her friend Glossril.

“Stop!” Yang rushed up to pull them apart. “She’s friendly!” She spoke to both of them at once, wrapping an arm around Glossril’s waist and throwing her back. As always, she landed on her feet.

“Lûgnaur?” Glossril looked confused. “Who is this?”

“Glossril, meet Blâke of the Solanâkh.” She steadied her breath, calming her heartbeat after enduring the prospect of her two friends hurting one another. “Blâke, this is my friend Glossril of Lothlórien.” She turned again to Glossril. “Blâke is as much a foe of the shadow as any of us. Perhaps more.”

“And how, pray tell, could one hate the Dark Lord more than you or I?” Glossril remained unconvinced, and as hostile to new people as ever.

“Although he threatens your lands,” Blâke replied, “He has already conquered mine. You merely hate him for what you imagine he will do if he wins. I hate him for all he has already done.”

Glossril paused, then nodded, ceding the point.

“With that done, where’s Ruby?” Yang had felt a gnawing worry ever since she noticed her sister wasn’t with Glossril.

“Do not fret, she is fine.” Glossril waved a hand dismissively, well used to Yang’s protective nature regarding her sister. “She merely took a shield-blow from an orc, so she is resting while I searched on for you.” She saw the question on Yang’s face and answered it before she could ask: “She’s just down the corridor, though the last room on the right. I did not venture far.”

Relieved, Yang turned the way Glossril had come, and forged ahead, eager to be reunited with her sister. As they walked, she couldn’t help but feel Blâke’s eyes on her. She turned her head to look at her, wordlessly inviting her to say whatever it was she wanted to say. She hesitated, then spoke:

“Your sister sounds like she is important to you.”

“Of course. It is only natural for sisters to care for each other.”

“I would not know. I was an only child.”

“Oooh.” Yang grinned, sensing an opportunity to continue their verbal sparring from before. “That explains quite a fair bit.”

“How so?” Blâke seemed unaware of Yang’s ruse.

“I mean, so is Glossril, and look at her.”

“Hey!” The elf in question flared up. “What, pray tell, is that supposed to mean?” Yang did not need to look at her to know the exact pose she had adopted, arms crossed over her chest and her face locked in a quite familiar frown.

“A flair for the dramatically cryptic. As well as demanding personalities. You’re both quite lucky I like that in a woman.” It was to Yang a simple turn of phrase, but as she turned to see their reactions, she could see the hint of a blush beneath Blâke’s mask, barely visible through the eyeholes, as well as her eyes refusing to meet hers. Yang felt her own cheeks heat up at the reaction. She may be inexperienced in romance, but she was not so naive as to miss the implications. She smiled to herself, a giddy excitement spreading through her chest. Not only had she grown fond of this variag, but she seemed to share the same interest.. This was going to be _fun_.

As for Glossril, she merely rolled her eyes.

And so they arrived in the room Ruby was in, the smaller woman running up and hugging Yang as soon as she entered.

“Yang! I was so worried for you! When the building caved in I thought you’d been hurt, and then enemies showed up, so we had to fight them, and there were more of them and I got hurt and Glossril had to go on without me to find you and-” She paused and stared at the newcomer, still wrapped around Yang. “Who’s she?”

“Ruby, this is Blâke. She’s on our side. Blâke, this is my little sister Ruby.” Ruby finally let go of Yang, and looked Blâke up and down.

“You’re a variag?” She sounded more curious than confused or suspicious.

“Yes.” Yang could hear the smile on her face. “I am of clan Solanâkh. My people call me Nashla Tun.”

“Ooh! That sounds cool.”

“It means Wildcat.” Yang added, giving Blâke a smirk. Ruby did not share her sister’s reaction to the name however, slightly disappointing Yang, who had been hoping to tease Blâke further about it.

“I have a nickname too!” Ruby said instead. “The elves call me Critharil. They call it an Epess.”

“ _Epessë_ ”, Glossril corrected, ”And it means _Reaper_ in my tongue. Or maybe _She-Who-Reaps_.” Yang grinned when she could see Blâke’s eyes widen in jealousy. Eager to move on, Blâke looked out the window at the setting sun.

“It’s getting late. Between the four of us, I reckon we have cleared this place of enemies. How about we set up camp somewhere?” The other three nodded, and followed Blâke to what had once been the kitchen, which Blâke had already cleared before the others even arrived, and which held a decent amount of food and firewood for the hearth. Most of it was foul orc grog and the rank food the enemy consumed, by there were also food that had no doubt been looted, for it far outstripped the rest in quality.

While Ruby and Glossril readied everyone’s sleeping bags, Yang set to lighting a fire. She had just stacked the wood and retrieved her lighter when she noticed Blâke staring at her with curiosity.

“Yes?” she asked.

“Apologies. I was just curious… What is that?” She pointed to the lighter.

“Oh. This is a firestarter, or a firelighter. It’s a marvellous invention really. Me and Ruby made it. Well, I doubt we’re the first to invent it, but we made this one.”

“What does it do?”

“It lights fires, without the need for flint and tinder.” She opened the lid and lit the apparatus. “It has a store of oil, which it lights and turns bit by bit.” Blâke watched the flame with wide eyes. She watched as Yang lit the hearth, then put the lighter away.

“Amazing.” Yang felt her cheeks heat up once more as pride swells in her chest.

They shared a meal together, cementing their friendship with Blâke, the variag bonding with Glossril over their confusion over the sisters’ prayers before the meal, and their need to turn towards west as they prayed. _Gondor superstition_ , the elf claimed while the sisters pretended not to hear.

Most of the meal was spent regaling each other with tales of their past deeds, Blâke recounting her bloody trail from Khand to here, and the strange sights she’d seen, while Yang tried to impress her with tales of heroics and combat prowess. Unbeknownst to her, Glossril and her sister exchanged many a look with one another during these tales as it became quite clear to them what both of them were trying to do.

Eventually however, they turned to rest, and crept into their sleeping bags. All but Glossril, who would take first watch. Yang lay awake for a while, occasionally daring to steal a glance at Blâke, who slept curled up on her side. It was the first time she had seen her without her mask, and she was _beautiful_. After a while, she forgot all pretense of shyness, and merely watched her for a while, drinking in her fair form.

Then, Blâke, not asleep like Yang had thought, turned to look back at her.

And smiled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quick glossary:  
> Glossril - Gloss = White + -ril = female name ending  
> Lûgnaur - Lûg = Dragon + Naur = Sun  
> Critharil - Crith = Reap + -ril = female name ending  
> (All words are in Sindarin)
> 
> I made up "Nashla Tun", since there's no actual Khandish language. In fact I made up the word "Khandish". As well as the clan names. They're both references, so +1000 points to whoever figures them out!
> 
> I also used the word "Rhûnaur", which is just what Tolkien called Rhûn at some point. So here it's used for the language.
> 
> Also, Yang telling both Blâke and Glossril that they're both lucky she "likes that in a woman", I could even make this a Bee's Schnees fic if I do continue it. Let me know if you want that. Or if you hate that.
> 
> Also also, I write it as Blâke because the ^ seems to mark a long vowel in some of Tolkien's writings, so I applied it here. Also for fun.


	5. Day 5 - Affection

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Prrr..."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this does have some angst in it. It's hurt/comfort really, and ends in fluff, but still.
> 
> CW: Adam Taurus

Blake and Yang had a  _ thing _ .

Girlfriends? Lovers? (No, that sounded too salacious) Whatever they were, Yang liked it. Liked Blake. They shared a bed now, Blake curled up in her arms, half-asleep, face buried against her chest. Yang would never get enough of it. Just Blake existing this close, her warmth against her body. Just seeing her sleep, so unguarded, ears free and twitching occasionally.

Knowing about Blake’s past, about how hard she had fought and how much she had suffered, seeing her so vulnerable and soft felt like a dream. Like a gift. A privilege. The thought that Blake had chose her filled her heart with so much love she felt like she would burst. Like just her body was not nearly enough to contain how much she  _ loved  _ Blake Belladonna. 

She leaned in closer, inhaling Blake’s scent, planting a kiss on her forehead.

_ “Prrrr...” _

The soft rumbling from deep in Blake’s chest caused Yang to freeze. It was something she’d never heard before. Never dared consider was a thing. Blake too froze, now fully awake, ears pinned and limbs withdrawn. She pulled away from Yang, and the speed with which she did so made a chill go down Yang’s spine. Like she had done something wrong. She hadn’t, of course. It was just her abandonment issues acting up, she reminded herself. But nevertheless, Blake had retreated, curled up on the other half of the bed, looking above all else  _ embarrassed _ . 

“Did- did you just  _ purr _ ?” Yang couldn’t keep an incredulous tone out of her voice. That was unmistakably a purr that had just escaped Blake.

“Yeah, I… I think I did.” Blake sounded almost as surprised as she did.

“You think?” Yang propped herself up on her elbow. “What do you mean you  _ think _ ?” She felt a smile creep up her face. She was so cute when she blushed like this. Blake bit her lip.

“I haven’t actually purred since...” She trailed off, thinking. “I was little enough for my mom to carry me?”

“Wait, really?” Now that statement stung Yang. Her family may all be dog people, but she knew what purring meant. What it expressed. It made sense of course, with the life Blake had lived she had never really been safe. Or comfortable. No matter how much she might have told herself otherwise. It still hurt to consider.

“Look, I’m sorry I flinched,” Blake sighed, then returned to Yang’s embrace. “I’ve just been so used to hiding my faunus traits that I...” She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. Yang kissed her on the forehead again.

“You don’t have to apologize.” She kissed her again, on the lips this time, then waited for Blake to continue.

“It’s just… I kind of thought I was broken… When I was with  _ him _ I would try so hard to purr, to prove to myself that I really did- really did l-” Her voice broke into a choked sob, and she buried her face in Yang’s neck, tears damping her shirt. Yang held her close, rubbing soothing trails on her back, whispering encouragement and kissing the top of her head.

“It’s okay. It’s okay. Let it all out. I’ve got you.” They continued like this for a while, until Blake was all cried out, sniffling as she lifted her head from Yang’s neck, eyes tear-streaked and bloodshot.

“But I didn’t, Yang. No matter how much I tried to prove to myself that I did, I never loved him. I know that now. Thank you.”

“For what?” Yang’s voice was soft and quiet. She was on the verge of tears herself, using her years of experience being Ruby’s rock to keep it in.

“For showing me what love feels like.”

And just like that, Yang crumbled. That confession, that knowledge that Blake  _ loved  _ her. That Blake felt safe and warm and loved in turn? It was too much. Too much love for her body alone to contain.

“I love you too Blake.” Her voice was as much a sobbing mess as Blake’s had been.

As they lay there, holding each other,it felt like the word had shifted somehow. All of it through words and feelings. Nothing tangible had changed really- except…

_ “Prrrr...” _


	6. Day 6 - Sun/Moon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a really busy weekend, and then BANG! it was Thursday again. Final chapter hopefully up on sunday (not counting the bonus day)

“-While in reality, the moon is several magnitudes smaller than the sun, even before it broke and lost a great deal of mass.”

Blake paid little attention to Oobleck’s rambling at the head of the classroom, her mind occupied with doodling in her notebook. The prof-  _ doctor  _ was going over sun and moon imagery in ancient cultures, and she was busy doodling her own personal ray of sunshine.

Ever since she and Yang had finally gotten together, Blake had almost felt like she was walking on clouds, her heart filled with joy. Some part of her couldn’t help but feel a little guilty though. She knew she wasn’t the easiest person to deal with sometimes -she’d more than proved that before the beacon dance-, and she almost felt like she didn't deserve it. Deserve her.

She finished doodling Yang’s eyes. Those gorgeous eyes of hers. She  _ definitely _ didn’t deserve those. She doubted anyone could deserve eyes like those looking at them with such love. When Yang looked at her like that, she could almost believe she really was worth it.

She let out a sigh. She felt like the moon Oobleck was talking about. Broken, small, somehow being compared to the sun. The source of all life and a ruined husk. That was her and Yang alright.

A slight buzz in her pocket alerted her to a message. Fishing up her scroll and hiding it behind her upraised textbook and Oobleck being caught up in his lecture, she read it. It was from Yang, speak of the angel…

_ You okay Blake? You got that look on your face again. _

She didn’t specify what she had seen, but she didn’t need to. She blinks heavily, shakes her head to clear her thoughts. They had been working on her self-worth issues. The whole team was helping her, but Yang tended to notice it the most. Blake smiled at the thought of Yang looking at her that much, even when they were just across the room.

_ I’m fine. Thanks.  _ She sent a heart emoji after. A few seconds passed, and then Yang shot one back.

She turned her attention back to the lecture. Oobleck was talking about all the sun usually represented in old texts and art. Light, day, life, fire. She couldn’t help but fire another message to Yang:

_ You’re my sun. _ It was cheesy, she knew, but she had learned that sometimes cheesy was good. And really, any casual affection shown towards Yang was usually reaped a hundredfold. She looked across the room just in time to see Yang grin like an idiot before her head fell to her desk. She saw her typing something and-

She had expected something about the moon, or duality, or a “Blake that’s gay”. Instead, she got  _ I was JUST about to send you the same thing! _

Blake froze at that. She felt her cheeks heat up. She didn’t even know what to say to that. Thinking back to all the sun meant, and knowing Yang applied them to her? That was almost too much. She sent back a heart, and put away her scroll, resolving to tough out the lecture so she could find somewhere secluded and kiss Yang. A lot.

“So, despite the cosmological differences, the sun and the moon was always almost seen as equal in most ancient cultures. As opposing halves of a greater whole, neither one greater than the other. In many, the metaphor was extended further, with the sun and the moon being married, to show how a perfect marriage consists of two different people come together as equals to form a complete whole.”

Blake absentmindedly played with her ring. Now, that was an idea...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Weiss: Again with this? Blake, I appreciate your struggles, and I am fully down with us all helping you, but can you at least keep the lovey-dovey stuff out of the team chat?  
> Blake: Wait, this isn’t DM?  
> Yang: But Weiss! We’re in love! Surely you couldn’t be so cruel as to deny our affection!? To deny my sun the praise she deserves!?  
> Weiss: Sigh...


End file.
